Mistress

Beautiful. It’s the only word I could think of to describe this exquisite work by Anita Nair. It is not too infrequently that I feel at a loss for words to express what I feel about some literary work and Mistress evokes a similar kind of overwhelming emotion in me. It’s just beautiful. It had been such a joy to stop every now and then to marvel at its beauty. (Off the top of my head, I could only recollect a couple of other books which I felt were ‘beautiful” – God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy and Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro. ) I feel that trying to fit the pleasure it gave me into words would be disrespectful to the experience and thus won’t dwell on the same any further.

Mistress is a masterful tale of art and adultery. Chirs comes to Shoranpur in Kerala from America to interview Koman, a famous Kathakali dancer. Koman’s niece Radha and Chris get passionately involved with each other while Shyam, Radha’s husband, could only watch helplessly. Radha’s and Shyam’s marriage is a wreck since the beginning as they are from different backgrounds and have different views of life. Radha is Shyam’s the most prized possession and he is forever waiting for her to return his love. Shyam is insensitive and materialistic, while Radha is sophisticated. They couldn’t be anything else given their backgrounds and upbringing. So, may be the reason for the sorry state of their marriage is just that they are not meant to be together. But what about Shyam’s love for Radha? Does he really love her, understand her?

Koman narrates the story of his life right from the beginning – with his father’s story – “In the beginning there was a sea.” Koman believes that in order to understand him and his art, one has to know where he has come from, and everything around him. Koman is both an observer and a participant in the tale he recounts, which unfolds the complexities of relationships.

The key characters in this novel all speak in first person, giving the reader a rich sense of them. The author presents the novel in 9 parts, one for each emotion – navarasas, the nine faces of the heart: love contempt, sorrow, fury, courage, fear, disgust, wonder, peace.

If I were to note down all the observations and conversations from Mistress that tugged my heart, I’m sure it would run into at least 100 pages.   I was so captivated by Anita’s prose that my need to capture at least some snippets of it here (for future reference) is so great.

Uncle -

I can see you are thinking forever, and he is thinking here and now . You can’t blame him for that. But it is you who will be hurt…….Everybody is entitled to making their own mistakes, I couldn’t rob an experience from her even if it was a mistake. Besides, whatever was destined to happen would. 

Shyam isn’t a bad man. He can’t be faulted as a husband. But I can see that Radha isn’t happy with him. To divorce him because he bores her – what court of law would hear of it? 

‘You are fortunate’, I said, ‘to be able to preserve your dream as you dreamt it, to want it despite all the years of waiting.’ I know that my dreams have acquired a blurred edge with all the ands and buts I have been forced to make place for. 

How do you live with such deceit for the rest of your life? How much do you not let it haunt you? How do you balance all the acts of goodness you may do against that one act of deceit? 

Shyam -

I would like to kill you. I hate you for what you are doing to me. But how can I? To kill you would be to lose you. That I cannot bear. I cannot let him take you away. I cannot let you go. Nor can I let you do this to me…none of this I can bear.

Chris -

Is this a game perhaps? Something you need to do to prove a point? To yourself. To your husband? 

Radha -

I saw the ease that flowed between her and her husband. The casual intimacies of a marriage. He took her hand in his when he talked. She touched his cheek in a casual caress…I looked away. I was glad to see them leave. Any reminders of my past made me realize how drab and barren my life was. 

The little girl voice, the bated breath, the widening of eyes, the pouting of lips, the touching and stroking as I talk. All I need to do to complete the act is scream and turn pale when I see a cockroach. Shyam would love it. He would love me to be the helpless shrieking female while he squashed the cockroach under his slipper. 

Aashaan -

I know who I am and what I am. I place the burden on you, on how you wish to see me. 

 Uncle -

It is the nature of children to never allow parents their youth, their mistakes or their fears. In the end, this unspoken tyranny children exercise over their parents is just as oppressive as the rules parents lay out for children. 

I was once like her. Is that what drew me to her? When I saw her, I saw a reflection of myself. Was this love? To seek in someone a mirror image of one’s own hopes and dreams, one’s own soul? 

Radha -

An act of defiance for me; an interesting encounter for him. Loneliness and a funneling need that had exploded into unbridled passion. That was all it was. And as is the nature of such things, it died as it was born. Abruptly.

Uncle -

I had hurt her and she was exacting revenge. Is this what living is all about? This perennial scoring off each other; this seeking of retribution.

Chris -

Aren’t you running away because she expected more from you than you were prepared to offer?

If he could, he would do it differently. Start all over again so they might have a better chance of keeping their love alive. But does he really want that chance? The truth is, he doesn’t know what he wants.

Radha -

She feels a great yearning to lean back against a shoulder and feel comforted. It is Shyam she thinks of now.

It is fear that makes me seek him, not regard for him.

I cannot continue to play wife merely because it frees me of worries. I have not done right by Shyam. I have played wife all this while despising him. For this I know remorse. I went to him broken, and expected him to heal me. When he couldn’t, I began to despise him and knew sorrow.

 I loved the way Fear and Wonder were described:

You can pretend all other emotions: courage or love, laughter or sorrow, disgust or wonder, contempt or calm, but you cannot pretend fear… you will give yourself away. Fear cannot hide itself, it emanates from you even if you try to conceal it. There is one other aspect to fear. When you are afraid, you react in two ways – with utmost courage or cowardice. The choice is yours, but only fear can draw that decision from you. 

That is the hallmark of wonder. A curiosity to know, a yearning to possess. And when you do, the wonder ceases. That is the nature of adbhutam. To be transient. For you will never know it again in exactly the same degree.

A Married Woman

As the title indicates, A Married Woman by Manju Kapur is a subtle portrayal of a married woman. The protagonist Astha symbolizes a typical married woman of India. There are countless ways a woman’s married life can be made a wreck by abusive and demanding  husband and/or in-laws. However, Astha, fortunately, doesn’t have to go through it. By all means, she has a fairly good marriage -  financially comfortable, large house, servants, fairly considerate husband, non-interfering in-laws, and two kids. She also works. Bingo! What can she possibly complain about??

Love – she pines for the ever elusive elixir of life. The insensitiveness of her husband creates a void in her. She is “allowed” to work, but her work and the resulting money she makes is considered inconsequential. Decisions are made without consulting her, not only about the family as a whole, but also about “her” things. Her indulgence in her art is seen as extravagance. The time she spends outside the home, in the things that interest her and those that she believes in, is resented.

Mind you, all this acrimony is not displayed overtly. But still, she has to fight the invisible chains to be able to do something for herself. ‘Permissions” are to be sought, explanations are to be given, and people are to be convinced before she can  step out and do something on her own. Each time, they let go of her reluctantly at the best.

Such a scenario has so become a part of marriage that it is never questioned.  Nor many people realize there is anything wrong with it. But if there is nothing wrong with it, why would women like Astha feel  dissatisfied, unloved, unappreciated and lost in a void? Why do they store pent-up anger and rage at their life in general?

Whenever I think of the deep-rooted conditioning about the role of woman in the family and society that has been instilled in the minds of the people since forever, I’m scared to bits. It reminds me of  the horrors as portrayed in the literary classics 1984 and Brave New World. People all over the world were alarmed and frightened at the idea of such “brain washing” as depicted in those pieces of fiction. But a similar kind of “mind-control” and “conditioning” has been taking place in reality since ages and none gives a damn. The problem is none even recognizes the problem or acknowledges it and its magnitude, let alone work towards a solution.

In my immediate circle, I’m yet to see a woman completely satisfied in her marriage. I wonder if it has always been like this. Have women of all ages felt the same in their marriages? May be in the past, owing to the ignorance thrust upon them by way of confining them to the four walls and the resulting limited sense of individuality, women weren’t even aware of the pathetic state of their lives.  But I doubt if there weren’t an occasional free spirit here and there perplexed at the injustice of it all.

If half of the human race isn’t happy with their lives, isn’t there something wrong with the whole system? And isn’t there an urgent need to address this?

Marriage kills the individual in a woman. To begin with, the family instills self-doubt and attacks the woman’s self-confidence. Once  succeeded in destroying the woman’s self-esteem, it’s a cakewalk to tread all over her. Isn’t it?

From the point of sharing of responsibilities, the traditional view is that while one spouse (typically husband) works for a living, the other spouse (typically wife) takes care of the children and the house.(Note that usually women are not free to choose what and how much they want to do. Of course, this applies to men too. Stereotypes rule.)  If it is as simple as just distribution of duties and responsibilities, why are women not content with the part they (are supposed to) play?  Because, the effort she puts in is not valued as much as it deserves. She and her duties are looked upon as inferior and menial, despite they comprising an inevitable part of family life. I believe if a woman is given the respect and freedom she deserves, then she wouldn’t feel lost in her role as wife/mother.  All this appears to come out as strong statements and  seems obvious, but the interesting thing is that in many cases the ill-treatment is practiced in a very subtle manner, not because people around are bad, but because they believe that’s the way things are and are unaware of any other way of dealing with women. what a pity!

It may seem like I’m generalizing things here, but I’m only trying to give a typical picture. If you are one of the very small percentage of lucky ones, who find love in your marriage (in long-term), are respected, shown interest and are encouraged in your individual interests without the slightest protest/reluctance, can make your own decisions, not feel burdened by the expectations of a good wife, mother, DIL etc., then I whole-heartedly congratulate you.

On the other hand, men too, quite possibly, have their own share of dissatisfaction from their marriages and I’m curious to know how much and in what way the social stereotypes are burdening them.

In this novel, Astha finds love, missing so far in her life, in Pipeelika. Actually, it makes a lot of sense. Given the biased society and the insensitiveness of men towards women’s needs in general, lesbian relationships make a lot of sense.

I sometimes wonder that when nature ordained for men and women to get together for procreation (which is the corollary of the very basic goal of any species – survival), why does the nature make them so very different in their thoughts, needs, and temperament? Wait a second, how much of it is nature, how much of it is nurture? Are men and women really as alien to each other as Martians and Venusians? It just seems so much trouble – trying to find a common ground (except bed, of course!):  trying to communicate, trying to complement each other, or just trying to “bear” with each other. I feel too much energy and effort goes into the attempt of creating harmony. Whether or not it can be achieved, I’m not so sure.

I couldn’t help noting down some observations made in the novel and would like to quote some of them here:

Given certain circumstances, there was no aphrodisiac more powerful than talking, no seduction more effective than curiosity.

 

‘Have you ever wanted more lovers?’

What could Astha say? She was living, the way people like her lived, where was the question of more lovers, or love for that matter?

 

‘Is he good in bed?’

‘I suppose.’

‘If you have to suppose, he is not,’ said Pipee severely.

 

And it also felt strange, making love to a friend instead of an adversary.

 

She was a wife too, but not much of her was required there. A willing body at night, a willing pair of hands and feet in the day and an obedient mouth were the necessary prerequisites of Hemant’s wife.

 

Now sexually involved with another, she realized how many facets in the relationship between her husband and herself reflected power rather than love. Hemant had managed to ignore her because ultimately he filled his own landscape. That her discontent had been expressed in nuances that were minor, only helped him in his disregard.

 

It was not fair. It needed his wife’s having an affair for Hemant to promise to see a video with her, something he knew she loved.

 

It was an illusion, ou could never be one with another, no matter how hard you tried. It was better to realize and accept that, life became easier once you did.

 

‘Teach me how to live, God. I’m not asking for happiness, but I would welcome some stability, so I need not run all over the place looking for love and confirmation. Give me substance, God, give me a life that has not been lived for nothing.’

 

Living with someone interested in the details of your work is companionship at the deepest level.

 

‘What do you want that I don’t give you?’

‘Interest. Togetherness. Respect.’

 

‘There has to be something more between us. I have to feel it is me you want.’

Hemant looked baffled. ‘Of course, it’s you I want. You are my wife,’ he repeated.

‘That’s the problem. Anybody could be your wife.’

‘What rubbish, I picked you, didn’t I?’

‘Picking is not the same thing as knowing.’ 

For a moment Astha felt an intense stab of envy, not just for Pipee, but for anyone who had the possibility of a new life. She had to remind herself sternly that if she wanted, she too had choices. 

He was lying. She had gone to Ayodhya twice, painted the masjid at least five times, scripted a play about it, and he didn’t know she was interested? This was his revenge for being concerned in things other than him. 

The first 100 and odd pages are more like premise for what comes later and I actually didn’t get hooked on until much later. All in all, it’s a good read.

Release and Other Stories

“Release and Other Stories” by Rakhshanda Jalil is a collection of ten stories featuring Indian Muslims. Each story  is sensible in its own way and lingers in one’s mind long after it’s read. Above all, I loved the look and feel of sleek hardbound and its crisp pages with beautiful font and generously spaced text. Loved the book cover too. I found it irresistibly giftable.

“A Mighty Heart” is about a woman who accepts the sons of her husband with his, so far secret, other wife. It is incredulous that that person maintain two wives simultaneously keeping the first wife in dark, calls both his wives with the same name, produces similar set of offspring in the same order with the two women and even names the two sets of children the same to avoid confusion and possible trouble. Lol!

“The Failure” is about a man, in the opinion of the narrator, who has failure written on his face. He turns his majestic house in the middle of nowhere  into a luxury hotel and keeps it in tip-top condition for two years until his first guests arrive.  In “The Perfect Couple”, the husband gets all distressed and shaky upon the sudden and possibly terminal illness of his beloved wife. When an equally distressed colleague of her visits her in the hospital room, the husband receives the jolt of his life when he witnesses the love between his wife and her colleague, as is evident by the way they look at each other holding hands.

“The Strange Man” is about a wealthy man who wanders the streets of a popular hill station in a strange manner, clasping a tape recorder to his breast and cooing to it, oblivious of his surroundings. The story ends with the narrator’s reflection upon learning who the man actually is : “Compulsions that drive people, compulsions that make them do the oddest of things.”

In “The Stalker”, a middle-aged, plain-looking woman is stalked by an unknown person, whom she confronts in the end only to find the face of a teenage boy under the mysterious baseball cap. She couldn’t let out her anger and frustration seeing the innocent expression of pure love etched on his face. She could only wonder -” Who can ever fathom the depths of another heart?”

When Zulfi meets Dia after about 25 years, he discovers that the demure young girl of 19 got transformed into “A Real Woman” of mid-forties and he feels intimidated by her. “The Incident of the Frozen Snake” is a gossip story about a rising star who turns mad after seeing a frozen snake trying to get up from the birthday cake,  which was sent to her as a revenge from the Fading Star, whose long-time beau had been smitten by the rising star. Is it funny or tragic?? Not sure!

“Release”, the title story is about lost love, similar to Devdas. Hasan, who couldn’t stand up against his mother, loses Arza, his childhood love and puts his past behind him until he visits Arza on her death bed fifty years later.

Loved this quote from Release:

“A flower, no matter how sturdy the branch it grows on or how deep the roots of the tree that bears it, can have only one of the two fates: it can either bear fruit, or fall off the branch. No flower can expect to linger forever. So it is with young love; it must find union or wither away.”

A couple of verses from famous Urdu poets appeared in this story, which simply captivated me:

Your thought kept coming and going

Like my breath, all night long

——- Makhdum Mohiuddin

Come, let us weave our dreams of tomorrow

Or else, this night from these hard times

Shall sting us, and for the rest of our lives

We shall never gain be able to weave another beautiful dream

——-Sahir Ludhainvi

“The Break Up” is about a woman who finally finds the courage to break up her marriage. In “A Holiday Gone Awry” three girls get raped by a few men in the hills in front of the brother of one of the girls. As ghastly a tale as it turns out to be, the narrator wonders about what could have been the impact on the 12 year old boy who had to witness such a gruesome event.

Interestingly, all the stories are told in third person, who is often a person inside the story narrating a story.

Acchhaa hai dil ke saath rahe paasbaan-e aql

Lekin kabhi kabhi isey tanhah bhii chhor de

–Iqbal

Julian Treslove

It’s not easy to be a Libran. In the perpetual process of attaining balance, one oscillates between the positive and negative moods and emotions it appears for a considerable period of time, before one can experience a brief moment of perfect balance.  This observation is not something I came up with originally but realized it as a fact when I encountered it in the famous Linda Goodman’s book. A Libran woman is  a lot of other things of course, and I exclaimed in pleasant surprise as she made one accurate description after another. It isn’t going too far if I say that she managed to shape certain perceptions about myself and gave words to describe myself. Without any doubt, not everything would have fit me perfectly and I had only been romanticizing things as a result of my over enthusiasm.

Well, all said and done, I can’t completely rule out the agitating and the inherent unrest in my personality. I constantly move between feeling high and feeling low; elation and depression; at times I feel so sure about myself and my life, while at other times I am drowned in confusion. For every positive feeling, there lurks around a corresponding negative feeling awaiting its chance to engulf me in its embrace. It’s like a never-ending battle to win the elusive peace.

Right now, I’m kind of feeling low, unsure of myself and over whelmed by life in general. As it happens, I’m reading a Booker winner fiction – The Finkler’s Question by Howard Jacobson. I can’t say how it is. It’s not very interesting and at the same time it’s not too dull. It’s protagonist Julian Treslove is a very depressing character. Pretty strange and pitiful too. His greatest ambition/fantasy in his life is to have his wife tragically dying in his arms so that he can mourn her death with utmost devotion. He fantasizes about how his heart would be broken by that incident and how he leads the rest of his life as a living corpse drowned in the loss. He is such a pathetic and self-absorbed person that none around him derives any pleasure from him or his company. Not that he tries for it. He is just too absorbed in his own fantasies and imaginary grief to do or be anything else. I wonder how it would feel like to be Treslove and the idea itself is too depressing to bear.

Well, reading about him evoked two contradictory thoughts in me. While on one side I feel how much better a position I’m in, on the other side, I can’t help relating to certain aspects of him, especially in these “low spirit days” of mine. Do people around me derive any happiness or even just pleasantness from me? As a person with my own share of fantasies and imaginary get-aways , there comes a doubt in my mind as to whether I’m as impractical, self-absorbed, and silly as Treslove. I certainly hope not. The thought itself scares the wits out of me, and with good reason.

It’s quite intriguing to  imagine a  person who forever is eluded by happiness and even worse, is not looking for happiness but rather the opposite; a person caught in the web of his own intricate thoughts and fantasies that life is just slipping by without being actually lived. It’s obvious that Treslove represents a very extreme case. But it seems to me that there is a part of Treslove in at least some of us. After all, obsession is not a stranger to anyone; it’s just the object or idea that varies.

I’m only around 100 pages into the novel and I’m sure there is more of Treslove that I would discover in due course. In a way, I’m apprehensive about what I would find.

The work is unlike anything I read before. It is also difficult to guess the direction that the story tends to take . Being not well acquainted with anything relating to Jews, Israel, Egypt etc, I’m finding it more than difficult to decipher the nuances presented in the narration.

As of now, I have no clue what Treslove would do to me when I finish the book and how much he haunts or influences me in the future. God save me from Julian Treslove.

Dreams of Joy

Just finished reading Dreams of Joy by Lisa See. It’s actually a sequel to her Shanghai Girls, which I read a couple of years ago and liked very much. Shanghai Girls had been a story about two sisters Pearl and May, set in the 1930s to 1950s. They both are well-educated, lived a stylish life in Shanghai  and used to sit for ZG’s paintings. Pearl loves Z.G. and believes that he too cares about her but is devastated when informed by May in an awkward confrontation after twenty years that it is she whom he loved and that they had been lovers back then (before marrying rickshaw pullers and fleeing to America). The blow felt by Pearl at this revelation is heart-wrenching. Throughout Shanghai Girls, we get to see Pearl as the wiser, patient, compassionate, responsible and enduring person whereas May is depicted to be childish and self-indulgent. But May’s argument in the end of the book that all Pearl did was to attract misfortune and glorify herself as a martyr; that she could have escaped being gang-raped on that fateful day when they left home in an attempt to leave China, the event which scarred her heart for life, if only she stayed where she was instead of trying to play the “big sister” thing in order to protect May. This accusation or rather insight is as devastating to me as it is to Pearl I guess.

It’s interesting to see how Pearl and May perceive each other. Each has completely different and seemingly opposite personalities and they have a certain disdain for each other alongside the sisterly love. The calm and composed Pearl resents the care-free and selfish nature of May, while May scorns the “air” taken up by Pearl.

Coming to Dreams of Joy, it starts where Shanghai Girls ends – Joy, the daughter of May raised by Pearl as hers, decides to leave America and go to China to help build the People’s Republic of China and mainly to escape the guilt of being the cause of her father’s suicide and also shocked and hurt by the fact that the truth about her parentage has been hidden from her and thus been deceived by her mother and aunt. After Joy leaves, Pearl follows her to China to bring her back.. And the story continues.

In Shanghai Pearl meets Z.G and all her old feelings surface. Even after 20 years, she feels the same for ZG, despite knowing that he loves May and not her. As hurting as it is, she still feels for ZG. As the story proceeds, they get to meet often.. And Pearl deliberately avoids writing about ZG in her letters to May, though May keeps on asking about him. Pearl enjoys taking a small revenge against her sister, even though she realizes that it’s a fruitless exercise. At last, there comes the moment – she sleeps with ZG and then, just like that – she gets over him. She finally accepts the fact that ZG loves only May. He doesn’t feel about her, Pearl, as he feels about May. And then all of a sudden she feels free of burden, joy and happiness. She falls is love with a person from her past in a true sense (not like she felt for her husband out of responsibility and gratitude)and marries him in the end.

What got me curious was the fact that it took her so long and so much to get over ZG. Finally, what really made it possible for her? What’s the tipping point? It’s not very clear. It’s just a momentous realization akin to enlightenment, but it’s not easy to come by – it usually takes decades, not just years. At one time she recollects May telling her that she is only infatuated with ZG and weighs that remark later, while in China, – she doesn’t care whether it’s only infatuation..and only seeks contentment in basking in the pleasure of his company.

My doubt is – is hers infatuation or love? Who is the best person to judge?  Is hers considered infatuation because her feelings are unrequited? Would like some answers here.

Also, I wonder what really makes a person, especially a woman, to grieve over her unrequited love and forever make a place for her lover in her heart? Is it because that gives her satisfaction and approval? Approval of whom? Unrequited love has forever been romanticized in literature and people who agonize for their lovers, or rather their unfulfilled love, till their death are glorified beyond extent. Does she feel guilty to forsake the reminiscences of her first love? Why does she feel it as her duty, more than anything, to be loyal to her love (even though unrequited, or especially because it is unrequited), even though he doesn’t care a bit about what she does or does not feel for him?

In love, mostly it’s the feeling of being in love, that people love most. People love being in love. It’s even more true in the case of one-side love or unrequited love because they have no other base to carry on with their love.

There is one philosophy which claims that – anything between two persons should be two-way. There must be both “give” and “take”. The balance must be maintained in every and any relationship for sustainment . Otherwise, the relationship won’t last for long. The giver just gives up sooner or later. But the one-side lovers have only this “romanticized” view of being in love as the reason to continue being in love with the same person. They refuse to give up hope to get something in return from their beloveds until a very long time.

But to what effect? They will never be able to love any other man in the same way and they just have to wait for that magical moment when they can get over their first love, which usually comes too late in old age or just never comes. What a pity! I believe that- if only the state of being in love is not romanticized so much, people would have easily moved on to find new love in their lives, which is actually a more fruitful exercise. Is the real test of love to be with the person you love for long and still continue to love? In the absence of which, the only love you feel is for the “imagined” or “expected” traits of the beloved and/or nuances of life.

This is all the mind speaking. But the heart goes on its own way. But the thing is the heart is influenced and shaped by the culture, society and literature and media around it. So, ideally the mind should win. But the heart always knows how to sneak in. it lures the mind with promise of instant gratification in certain thoughts.

I’ve had similar thoughts even while reading about Scarlet’s blind love for and fierce devotion to Ashley in Gone With the Wind. What did it all fetch her in the end? It ruined her life. In a way, it was so upsetting to read about it.

Coming back to Dreams of Joy, it’s my first encounter with anything related to communism. It is shocking and sad to know how flawed leadership has led to the great famine that lasted 3 years, killing millions of people. The novel also depicted how despite the lofty ideals of equality, there are certain classes of privileged people  in the Mao’s New China. Hypocrisy is prevalent and common man suffered. I admire Joy for the way she handled things in China, coming to terms of her life, shocking though it was as it unfolded before her, but never losing her courage and spirit.

I must say that the tale of Pearl, May and Joy has cast a deep impression on me and greatly influenced some of my perceptions. I wouldn’t forget the three ladies and their intricate story.

2011 Reading

I’ve been writing an end-of -the year synopsis on my perusal of books  for the past couple of years (i.e. ever since I started this blog) but this time I missed on it and haven’t posted anything about my 2011 reading. It’s not because I forgot about it or just been busy or lazy. In fact, I wanted to do something different for 2011 and I unwittingly set an ambitious task for myself. Inspired by the statistics course and visualization workshop I attended during the last semester,  I wanted to present the statistics of my reading in the form of attractive visuals. While the first part is fine, it’s the latter one which posed a challenge to me. Being untrained in visualization techniques and having made no significant efforts to acquire the required skills, the exercise took on a “delayed indefinitely” status. Finally today, I decided to present whatever crude things I came up with in my initial attempts this time and save the lofty goal for the next year. So beware of what’s coming next.

Here are a few graphs, which are (I suppose) self-explanatory:

I read 75 books in total, of which most of them are fiction(69). As you can see, I read very few non-fiction in 2011 and all of them are Indian and in English. It’s interesting to note that though I read the print material most of the time, reading in the electronic mode isn’t too insignificant. I attribute this to my dear Sony Reader. Another observation is that I own most of the books I read in 2011 and given the fact that I’m not an active member of any library currently, it’s  surprising to see that I’ve managed borrowed a considerable number of books. Given the space constraint in my house, I should actually do this more. Though my selection in 2011 largely favored Indian literature, I indulged myself in a variety of  writings from different nations. I’m usually so careful and systematic about picking my reads that there will be little chance for disappointment or frustration and this is evident from the ‘rating” chart. You can see that most of them were rated 3-5.

I prepared an excel sheet with various attributes like title, category. Author, language, country of origin, ownership status, mode (print/electronic), type (novel, short stories etc), translation, rating and remarks. Couldn’t come up with anymore interesting things. I created these graphs from Tableau Public. Being a free offering, it didn’t provide much flexibility and I couldn’t figure out how to show the percentages in the pie chart. I could have produced better analysis and presentation, but as I confessed earlier, I didn’t really give it my best shot.

Wait, there’s more to come, but not this time. I have bigger and more colorful plans for my reading data. I’ve been keeping track of the books I read for 5 years and this means I can do a time-series analysis to identify the trend(s). It would also be interesting to do some data mining (which I’m learning this semester) on it and explore for any hidden patterns (I know the data is not huge, but still, I can fantasize, can’t I?) and the ultimate objective would be to predict what I’ll be reading next. Wow, that would be really cool! Just thinking about it gives me a shiver of excitement. (You know me! I like being dramatic sometimes.)

Caught up in the enthusiasm for all the new thoughts that emerged in this context, I want to now introduce the tradition ( ) of announcing the best picks of the year. Here they are for 2011:

• Best Short Stories – Telugu: Seela Veerraju Kathalu by Seela Veerraju
• Best Novel – Telugu: Rachayitri by Ranganayakamma
• Best Short Stories – English: Short cuts by Raymond Carver
• Best Novel – English: Gone With the Wind by Margeret Mitchell
• Best Non-fiction: Mother Pious Lady: Making Sense of Everyday India by Santosh Desai

26th Annual Book Fair

I’ve not been too excited about visiting the  Annual Book Fair of Hyderabad this time as I’ve been buying books all through the year. Nevertheless, I couldn’t help the adrenaline rush at the sight of  so many books at one place. I hoped to find some good bargains from the used collection and of course wanted to grab a few Telugu books to which I don’t have easy access from where I live. I also wanted to limit my purchase to maximum of 6 items. And so I bought the following:

1. Rachayitri by Ranganayakamma: I’ve already read this, but wanted to have a personal copy.
2. We Need to Talk About Kevin by Lionel Shriver: Heard about it first around one-and-a-half year ago and it instantly piqued my interest. It’s a mother’s narrative about her son, who commits mass murder. It won the Orange Prize for fiction in 2005.
3. Ampasayya by Naveen: This author had been recommended to me by a literature friend. This particular work brought the author so much reputation that “Ampasayya” has become a prefix to his name ever since. I felt that it’s only proper to start reading this author with this great work.
4. Paradise and Other Stories by Khushwant Singh: Recently got the taste of his candid, honest, and fearless writing and was quite impressed by his personality.  I’m sure I won’t be disappointed by this collection of  short stories.
5. Pekamedalu and Chaduvukunna Kamala by Ranganayakamma: This is a collection of two novels. I’ve become kind of addicted to Ranganayakamma’s fiction and it seems I can’t wait long before I read everything by her. The best thing I like about her books, other than the content, is the colorful hardbound, with high-quality paper and a surprisingly low price.
6. Mana Smasyalu – Krishnaji Samadhanalu of Jiddu Krishnamurthy foundation by Abburi Chayadevi: My experience with Krishnamurthy literature is intermittent at the best. I’ve read a couple of books about his philosophy in the past but can’t really say I digested even little of it. I felt that his philosophy is complex to understand and practice. I hope this short introductory book will reignite my interest and would lead me to explore  more of the great personality.
7. Oka Hijra Katha -Suprasiddha Urdu, Hindi Anuvada Kathalu, translated by Paravastu Lokeswar: Picked this up as I wanted to explore the Urdu and Hindi literature. Read a couple of translated stories recently from “The Inner Courtyard – Stories by Indian Women” and liked them.

Yes, the count is one more than the target but being a lenient person, I excuse myself for this violation. In fact, I bought the last book with the scraped change left as I didn’t like the feel of unexpended money in my purse.

While I was going through the used collections, I found, much to my chagrin, that some of the books I’ve bought recently for their marked retail prices are there for 30 bucks and 50 bucks and in good condition too.

Yet again I realized that how inadequate are  the three hours I can usually spend per day in that vast arena of books. Surely, would require at least another day to cover the stalls to a decent extent. I’m extremely happy to add the new books to my collection but I’m faced with a new challenge of accommodating them. My bookshelves have already been overflowing for quite some time now and I should really give it a serious thought and  come up with a solution soon.

Ladies Coupé

It’s been a while since I read this long-pending Indian chick-lit by Anita Nair. Finally took time to write something about it. I expected it to be a racy, shallow, gossipy and “masala-filled” novel depicting lives of a group of women travelling together in a Ladies Coupé of a train. I was part-right and part-wrong. It sure was fast-paced and interesting but it was anything but shallow.

Each and every woman character in the novel had been dealt with a depth of empathy and understanding as they shared their stories. Each woman seeks to find herself, making sense of her life and her role in it. Akhilandeswari, who is forced to stay single until 45 by circumstances, embarks on a journey to Kanyakumari to break free from all the oppressing ties of traditional norms and society and seeks answers to her questions before asserting her freedom and independence through her actions. In a society, which stresses that a woman can’t live alone and makes every attempt to make her life terrible, trying to come to terms with self isn’t very easy. I liked the way the author didn’t offer any readymade solutions to the predicament, but rather allowed the character to discover her own path to deal with it.

I was seriously shocked by the way Margaret Shanti dealt with her imposing, insensitive, and tyrant husband. She took revenge by attacking his sense of pride in self. She fed him enormous meals with the effect that it impacted his fitness, thereby reducing his self-confidence. I felt that this is a clever idea. It’s only her way to cope with the situation.

Each woman has varying degrees of problems, and considering each of them from a vantage point, one would tend to rate them on a scale. However, a problem is a problem. There is no one without any troubles. In the absence of a great tragedy, even a seemingly minor issue takes the mind off peace. Marikolanthu’s life might have been the worst of all of them, but that doesn’t make the others’ troubles any slighter. Despite having normal life with material comforts and close-knit family, Prabha Devi and Janaki struggle with their sense of loss of self before finding their way out.

The ability to solve all our problems lies within ourselves. It just needs some calling. One has to grapple with it and persevere to succeed.

Ladies Coupé is an enlightening and thought-provoking work, which stimulates the reader to reflect on his/her own life. It is a must read for everyone, especially women.

Ranganayakamma

Bear with a brief prelude before getting into the main topic of the post. Of late, I’ve not been writing anything much other than movie reviews. With research work occupying most of my mind and available time, there hasn’t been much “thinking time” and breathing space to accommodate blogging. I’m enjoying  my research experience a lot. Though technically the research work hasn’t yet started, the groundwork isn’t unexciting. There is so much to do and learn that the number of avenues open to me  gives me a heady feeling at times. I always like my passion to drive my work and research is no exception. The only problem I face now is that I need to channel  my tremendous energy into a narrow stream so that a tangible and worthy output can be delivered. Well, the process isn’t so easy – it’s confusing, bewildering and undoubtedly frustrating.  But of course, struggle is inevitable to achieve any success.

Not willing to have a month pass by without at least one post, I’ve resorted to the easy way. Needless to mention, movies present ample opportunity to dish out a post in no time.  I’ve read only a few books in the past few months and even less that moved me to write something about them. Of course, I haven’t actually written anything about them “yet” but the intent still holds good. The thoughts are just lurking around awaiting their chance to be penned (typed) down.

It is only recently (to be precise, 8 months ago) that I discovered Ranganayakamma and she already found her place in my list of favorite authors. I’ve read 6 books of her so far and loved each one of them. My reviews on two of them: Krishnaveni, Ammaki Aadivaaram Ledaa? Read 3 of her novels in the past month and found myself addicted to her narration. Finished each of the books at one go. Worth mentioning among them is “Rachayitri”. It is a story of a young writer Vijaya, who is highly individualistic with progressive views, and her husband, with conservative notions and beliefs. The novel depicts the clashes that arise between people of completely different levels of thinking and questions many prevalent practices and roles in the society. These days many women are thinking beyond the traditional confinements and age-old conventions, with education and change in the upbringing. But the rest of the society hasn’t kept up with it. I felt that every husband, who puzzles over the individuality and the questioning attitude of the wife, should read this book. The novel also presents a pragmatic account of married life. Like all her books, “Rachayitri” too is educative.

I like the author’s feminist ideas. In fact they are humanist; she urges people to develop right attitude and individuality, regardless of the gender. For women to achieve them, they need to fight against this patriarch and oppressing society and hence the need for  ‘feminism”. The term raises many a eyebrow and makes many people treat it with suspicion. Some even think it as frivolous and/or stupid. I feel that this is mainly due to the misinterpretation of the intention behind the movement by zealous practitioners with half-knowledge and inappropriate activities and also by the  innocent bystanders.

She is also a communist and atheist. I have no issues with any of her beliefs but she thinks that  a person’s true progress is measured by the extent to which he or she acquires the above perspectives. According to her, understanding and believing Marxist’s theory is the true education; shunning god and idol worship is true wisdom. Developing these convictions is the sign of growing up, in her sense. I’m not arguing for capitalism and theism here. In my opinion, every philosophy is relative. There is no absolute truth. I have trouble with her attitude that those without the knowledge of Marxism and acceptance of atheism are primitive people who need help. For me, this sounds exactly like Christian missionaries whose main concern is to convert people of other faiths to their religion; make them believe in Jesus and thereby save themselves from condemnation. There is nothing wrong about any belief. One believes a certain thing for one’s own convenience and comfort.  One finds solace and courage in one’s faith. I find it silly and arrogant of those who deliberately try to establish the superiority of their belief over others’ and actively seek people to join their cult.

It’s one thing if a person explores that particular knowledge and faith and gets interested in it by himself. But forcing it on someone by simultaneously elevating their belief and  debasing other beliefs doesn’t sound well to me. I have little respect for such beliefs. As long as a particular philosophy or faith doesn’t harm anyone, it can be left alone and let the individuals explore other philosophies by their own quest for knowledge. May be the contention between Capitalism and Marxism isn’t that innocent. Each philosophy favors one segment of people, causing harm to the other. While capitalism is based on the principle of individual rights and in effect  states that the fruits of a tree can be devoured by the one who raised it, Marxism calls for uniform availability of resources and wealth to one and all, irrespective of  the origin/source of the bounty. (Excuse my crude and limited perspective; I hope I’m not too far off the mark.)

But I suppose that this” forcing of your beliefs on others” is a universal phenomenon forever in existence. I believe that if something is worthy enough, it doesn’t need trumpeting. I am not against preaching. Preaching is usually done to a willing audience. But trying to sell the philosophy or faith to unsuspecting and impassive individuals, I perceive it as something degrading. Somehow I can’t view philosophies/faiths as commodities that can be advertised and sold.

Gone With the Wind

Totally loved reading this classic by Margaret Mitchell, set in 19th century  Georgia of USA.  It’s a whopping 900 pages and it’s as good a page turner as any thriller. I enjoyed the whole experience a lot and I believe this book remains one of my favorites, its powerful characters etched forever in my memory.

I have a kind of phobia for huge books and it is with great reluctance that I first embarked on this novel. Also, it being a classic, I had doubts as to the pace of the story and I must say that I had been pleasantly surprised to encounter its fast tempo.

When one reads a book this size and a story with this breadth, it is inevitable that the characters cast a deep impression on one’s mind. One gets to feel a certain kind of kinship with them which is not dissimilar to that invoked by daily soaps.

During the 3 weeks it took me to finish this book, I found myself several times contemplating the southern life as depicted in it – Tara and its beauty, tempers and mannerisms of the Old Guard, Atlanta and its buzz, the war and more. It had been impossible to detach myself from these enigmatic characters and events even when I was not reading and I recollect many a nights when I ruminated about them before bed.

Scarlett with her high spirit, selfish and insensitive though she was, won my heart for her courage and determination. Rhett, the hero of the novel was always a gentleman at heart but was irrevocably the most notorious character in and around Atlanta. He did move me to tears when he bared his heart to Scarlett towards the end, in such an impassioned  and broken-hearted way. It’s true that however much he loved her, he couldn’t have expressed it explicitly for Scarlett would then have scorned him. What a pity she didn’t realize it earlier and it was too late when she at last did. But of course one can’t expect anything else from her, knowing her.

I often wondered about Scarlett’s feelings for Ashley and vice-versa. I was struck by her blind faith and loyalty to him – or rather to her image of him. Ashley always seemed hazy and swept off by Scarlett’s charms and little else. The way the author made it all cleared up in the end is laudable. And how can I forget Melly, the ideal woman of the novel – soft spoken, kind, gentle and at the same time courageous in her own way who had been the inconspicuous source of strength for both Ashley and Scarlett.

Margaret crafted the characters so well that they struck to their dispositions all through and were so meaningful as to deliver a rich experience for one who is interested in studying personalities.

Gone With the Wind is a stirring saga that just swept me off the ground. This is something too good to miss.